


Wolf and Spark

by Amethystina



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, So ratings and warnings will vary, This is a collectin of stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-24 15:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: This is a collection of shorter Sterek ficlets that I have previously only posted on my Tumblr. I admit that I completely forgot that I had written some of these, but figured that they were worth posting here on AO3 as well. Perhaps they'll offer you some joy.Each chapter is a separate story and they range between 860-3600 words. Ratings and warnings will be given in the author's note at the beginning of each chapter, and more will be added as I write them.I hope you'll like it <3





	1. You Pick the Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt by[fine-i-give-in](http://fine-i-give-in.tumblr.com/):** _Stiles drags Derek along for some domestic grocery shopping for a party he decides to throw_
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** G / None (unless you hate grocery shopping, I guess)
> 
>  **Notes:** This was written back in 2013, but I still think it's pretty cute so (after some touch-ups) I decided to share it. I love me some (semi)domestic fluff.

 

Derek couldn't help wondering — not for the first time, and definitely not the last, either — what he had done to deserve this. While he would have liked to pretend that he had somehow been blackmailed into coming, it was much simpler than that.

Stiles. Always Stiles.

It was embarrassing, really.

"Okay. Here's the plan of attack," Stiles declared gravely, as if he was indeed going through battle plans of some sort. "You are in charge of picking cookies, while I take the chips."

Derek remained motionless. Stiles gave him an imploring look and made a shooing motion with his hands — one that Derek completely ignored. He had definitely not signed up for this when he got out of bed this morning.

"Come on, Derek, work with me here. We have a lot to do and not much time to do it."

"What do you mean 'we'?" Derek deadpanned. He had no idea why he was at the grocery store and why he seemed to suddenly be in charge of _the cookies_ , of all things. He wasn't even particularly fond of cookies.

Stiles huffed and rolled his eyes, as if Derek was being intentionally thick.

"I'm throwing a party and you're helping me buy the food," Stiles explained, as if that should have been obvious.

It wasn't to Derek.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You are obviously already here, in the grocery store, with me."

Derek's eyes narrowed, not giving the disgruntled little lady who tried to squeeze past them on her way to the dairy aisle as much as a glance.

It hadn't been Derek's idea to come to the grocery store. He would very much have preferred to stay at home with a good book, but Stiles had been adamant. And, somehow, Derek had ended up here, in the middle of the vegetable section, arguing with Stiles with the so far empty shopping cart between them.

"I never agreed to this," Derek pointed out, even if he knew, deep down, that it would be virtually worthless as an argument.

"That's because I decided for you," Stiles explained patiently while pushing the cart toward Derek. "I need someone to carry the bags. And man the cart, of course."

The smile Stiles gave him was probably meant to be innocent, but all it did was make Derek tempted to punch him. Stiles always found new ways to test his patience.

"I'm not a servant," Derek grumbled, but caught the cart all the same. It would honestly be more childish to storm out of the grocery store than it would be to stay and help. And it wasn't like Derek _really_ had anything against spending time with Stiles, no matter the circumstances.

But he wasn't going to say that out loud. That would mean admitting defeat.

"Of course you aren't, angelcake. You are the big bad alpha and I am in desperate need of your specific skill set of manly manliness."

Derek frowned, but it was all lost on Stiles, who had already started walking towards another aisle. Derek briefly considered not following but eventually decided against it, if only to save himself having to hear what creative nickname Stiles would no doubt shout across the entire store if he noticed that Derek wasn't with him.

Derek pressed his lips together and sighed. The things he did for that silly boy.

Stiles was already rambling on about something else while Derek pushed the cart, glancing around disinterestedly. He had no idea why Stiles actually wanted him there — manning the cart definitely wasn't the reason — and he didn't offer much in terms of company, either. Perhaps it was just Stiles being Stiles, which wasn't always a bad thing.

Derek could admit that his gaze might have been more focused on Stiles than where he was going. Perhaps because Stiles was always a sight to behold when he was in motion, gesturing animatedly with his hands, twirling once or twice when his attention got caught by something in his peripheral vision and he forgot to stop moving forward first. He was something else entirely and Derek found himself reluctantly intrigued.

Like he had ever since they first met.

Derek took silent notice of the things Stiles started piling into the cart but offered no opinions on his choices. He still wasn't entirely sure why he was there in the first place. The other Saturday afternoon shoppers kept giving them weird glances. Derek couldn't say if it was because of him or Stiles — or the unlikely duo they presented — but he ignored them all the same.

It was only his awareness of his surroundings — Stiles in particular — that made Derek halt before he collided with Stiles, who had stopped unexpectedly, inspecting the rows upon rows of colorful boxes of cookies.

"Come on, Derek, this is your responsibility."

The grave tone was back and Derek rolled his eyes, grabbing the closest box within reach.

Only to have it snatched out of his hand before he had time to place it in the cart.

"No, not those! Isaac doesn't like those," Stiles reprimanded with a stern glare. Derek returned the look and blindly reached for another, not surprised in the least to see Stiles frown. "And not those either. Scott hates them."

Derek was close to groaning, but settled for a heavy sigh of exasperation instead.

"Here's an idea — you pick the cookies," he suggested gruffly, but Stiles didn't seemed deterred in the least by Derek's tone. Stiles never did. It was frustrating how ineffective the usual tricks were on him.

"Your constant negativity and lack of enthusiasm is quite depressing, has anyone ever told you that?" Stiles asked, but he did indeed pull a couple of boxes off the shelves and piled them on top of everything else he was apparently intent on buying.

Derek was beginning to wonder how Stiles intended to pay for all of it.

"Not in those exact words, no," Derek replied drily, which apparently earned him an elbow in his side. It probably hurt Stiles more than it hurt Derek, though.

"You are impossible." Stiles didn't seem very bothered by it, however. He was smiling, in fact, and gave Derek a playful little nudge as he walked past, heading back the way they came.

Derek took an extra second to appreciate the lingering burst of Stiles' scent before he turned the cart around to follow. Shopping was stupid and boring — but Stiles definitely wasn't.

He didn't hurry to catch up which meant that Stiles flitted back and forth between the rows of groceries and their cart, tossing things in, only to sometimes pick them up again with a grimace and return them to their places. Derek quietly observed the proceedings, trying to deny that his lips might be twitching towards a smile.

It got to the point where Derek just stopped, leaning his elbows against the cart's handle while Stiles raved on about the pros and cons of different types of melons. They weren't even going to _buy_ melons, but it was apparently a very serious topic judging by the attention it warranted from Stiles.

The little old lady from earlier passed them again, in the middle of Stiles' rant, giving them an amused little shake of her head. Derek had no idea how to interpret that and resolutely decided not to look deeper into it.

Stiles soon kept moving — he was rarely, if ever, motionless — and Derek followed silently. He kind of liked it that way. He didn't have much to say on a daily basis and while Stiles' more excessive rants could get tiring, it wasn't all that bad to have someone fill the silence. It was a comforting background noise that Derek appreciated more than he cared to admit.

There were a lot of things concerning Stiles that he would never admit out loud.

Like the fact that he didn't mind at all that Stiles lingered so close when they finally reached the queue for the register, as if he was afraid that he was going to lose track of Derek if they strayed further than an arm's length from each other. Or how he spoke softer, more intimately, when they stood closer together. It was like Stiles created an own little bubble, just for them, where all his attention was on Derek and Derek alone.

He wasn't even going to pretend that he didn't like that.

While Stiles paid, Derek packed the groceries, not even sure what Stiles was going to do with half of it. He suspected that not even Stiles knew.

That didn't stop Stiles from grinning from ear to ear once he joined Derek, not looking the least bit guilty when he made no offer to help carry the bags. Derek would have complained if it hadn't been for the fact that Stiles was probably just waiting for him to do so. He wasn't going to give Stiles the satisfaction.

So he carried them, like Stiles had predicted, and wondered, once again, why this was how he spent his Saturday afternoon.

That was the moment Stiles chose to grab Derek's arm, just briefly enough for him to lean in and place a quick kiss at the corner of Derek's mouth.

"Thank you for helping."

Right. That was why.

Derek cleared his throat, ignoring the old lady who made a cooing noise behind them, and replied in his usual curt fashion.

"Don't make it a habit."

Stiles grinned, leading the way toward their cars. "I wouldn't dream of it."

His tone said otherwise, though, and Derek could admit, out there in the parking lot, with the sun painting Stiles' ruffled hair a dark shade of gold, that he wasn't really against it. He didn't mind it in the least, in fact.

Not when Stiles kept smiling like that.

Derek shook his head and resigned himself to what he knew would be a long future of helping Stiles with the groceries. But he could live with that.

The things he did for that silly boy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought you had seen the last of me in this fandom.
> 
> Think again.


	2. Trust Is Earned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt by[MorganD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganD/pseuds/MorganD):** _Derek's point of view during the scenes in the pool during 2.04 - Abomination_
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** T / Almost drowning
> 
>  **Notes:** Another thing I wrote back in 2013, again with slight touch-ups. I'm not sure if I managed to write this as well as I wanted, but it was an interesting experience nonetheless, trying to balance my own words with what we all know from the show. A lot of the dialogue is removed because it would have been really long otherwise, but I hope you'll like it!

 

The plan was simple in theory. Find Stiles, question him about what he had seen during the murder at the garage — because Derek didn't believe for a _second_ that someone as prone to disaster as Stiles hadn't witnessed it — and then locate the thing responsible. And preferably kill it.

When Stiles came stumbling into where Derek was waiting by the pool, dragged along by Erica like a naughty child, Derek still had every hope of handling this quickly. As long as he could keep Stiles on topic. After a motivational demonstration with a punctured basketball, Stiles reluctantly explained what he had seen.

Derek couldn't care less about Stiles' other appointment he seemed desperate to get back to, and that might have made him a little less aware of his surroundings. He was more intent on Stiles and what he was saying than what was sneaking up on them.

Derek should have heard the lizard creature approach.

He reacted instinctively when it pounced, though, crouching into a defensive stance with a roar. Stiles was somewhere behind him, but he didn't run. Derek couldn't understand why — not when Erica was tossed aside like a ragdoll.

Stiles didn't stand a chance. Stiles needed to get the hell out of there.

Derek did the only thing he could think of doing — or perhaps he wasn't thinking at all. He turned, just enough to place his palm against Stiles' chest and push him backward, away from the danger.

"Run!"

Stiles expression was a mixture of confusion, affront, and fear. He didn't seem to have realized the gravity of the situation yet, only stumbling back instead of running like Derek urged him to. Derek could still hear the spike in Stiles' heartbeat — the adrenaline would be kicking in soon.

The scratch at the back of his neck took Derek by surprise, even if it really shouldn't have.

He had turned his back on the enemy, and for what? To tell Stiles to run? That was a rookie mistake. A stupid mistake. He should have known better. Even if it had been some kind of instinct — one that Derek had absolutely no intention of inspecting further — he knew better.

He still whirled around, as if that would make things undone, but he could already feel the paralysis set in. It was terrifying to slowly lose control of his own body and he was surprised to find that he had something to lean against when he stumbled.

No, not something — some _one_.

Stiles looped Derek's arm over his shoulders and was dragging them both away from the lizard. Derek could say quite a lot about Stiles and his general existence, but he did have pretty reliable instincts and good reaction time when he wanted to.

Derek was practically tripping over his own feet, no longer able to control them, and, even if his mind was crystal-clear, his body just wouldn't obey. Derek hated it. He could only watch, helpless, as Stiles fumbled for his phone and, consequentially, dropped it. When Stiles scrambled to pick it up, Derek felt himself teeter to the side.

"Stiles, stop!"

Derek crashed into the pool, the water swallowing him before he had time to gather a full lungful of air. He closed his eyes, disoriented and confused. His mind was screaming at him to move — to swim for the surface — but he just continued to sink toward the bottom.

For the first time in a long while, Derek began to panic. He usually wouldn't, partly because he was extremely resilient and, more often than not, because he knew that he could always find a way out. But not this time — he couldn't even move. He was powerless. He might honestly drown.

Only he didn't.

He could feel hands pulling him toward the surface and, when they broke through, he knew it had to be Stiles who had saved him. That surprised him. Derek thought Stiles would rather save himself than dive in after him. But that was perhaps unfair. Stiles had never shown any indication that he _wouldn't_ foolishly brave danger to save others.

Derek spat out as much water as he could before he sucked in a deep breath, trying to somehow remain afloat through sheer willpower. Stiles was the one doing all the work, though, once again with one of Derek's arms looped around his shoulders, flailingly trying to get them balanced enough that both of their heads would remain above water.

Derek would have felt humiliated if he hadn't been so busy trying not to gag due to all the chlorine. He hated chlorine and he just _knew_ that he would smell and taste it for at least a week to come.

Stiles was gasping, whipping his head around, trying to see where the lizard freak had gone. Derek couldn't spot it either. Neither of them could.

"Okay, maybe it took off?" Stiles offered, vaguely hopeful. The words had barely left his lips before a shrieking roar echoed against the tiles.

"Maybe not," Derek replied with a sideways glance at Stiles. He couldn't do much more than that. He couldn't even move his head properly and he didn't know if he had ever felt as frustrated in his entire life. Derek didn't want to rely on Stiles for his survival. He wasn't even sure how long Stiles would be able to keep this up.

"So, what do we do about it?" Stiles hissed, treading water for the both of them. "Because I gotta tell you, big guy, you're not exactly a lightweight."

Derek was glad that he could still roll his eyes.

"You'll live," he spat.

"Yeah, but you might not."

Derek tried not to let the comment get to him — knowing Stiles, it was probably a reflex more than an actual threat. The words still left a cold chill behind and Derek took a couple of moments to gather his breath.

"Will you get me out of here before I drown?"

"You're worried about _drowning_?" Stiles shot back.

Whatever gratefulness Derek might have felt was quickly forgotten in the face of the usual bickering he and Stiles seemed incapable of avoiding — even in life or death situations.

To him, drowning was a real possibility. With the paralysis, he was practically useless and had to rely on Stiles for his survival. It wasn't just that Derek didn't trust him — it was that Stiles was human. No matter how well-meaning the attempt was, Stiles would tire eventually. He didn't have the same stamina as werewolves did.

That was why Derek felt his heart sink when it became obvious that the lizard wasn't leaving.

"What's it waiting for?" Stiles asked, probably to no one in particular.

He honestly couldn't expect Derek to have any answers.

Even the realization that the giant lizard didn't like water wasn't much of a comfort — they were still stuck in the pool. And would be for a long time to come, it seemed.

The lizard was going to wait them out.

Derek gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment. This couldn't be happening. This _shouldn't_ be happening. All because he was stupid enough to turn his back on his enemy. For Stiles. Why on earth had he done that? It was ridiculous and reckless.

Derek knew better.

Had their roles been reversed, he could have fought the thing off. They wouldn't be stuck in the pool for God knows how long, with Stiles kicking Derek's limp leg with every second tread. Derek was getting sick of spitting out water and feeling the burn of the chlorine in his nose.

There was another ache as well — a clench in his chest — that he wasn't exactly proud of.

He was afraid.

Derek was a born werewolf. Born to be strong, physically better than humans, and he wasn't used to being the weak one — the one in need of protection. He wasn't used to relying on others — he couldn't even say that he knew how to do it. But there he was, barely afloat, and the only one capable of saving him was Stiles.

Derek still didn't know if he could trust him.

He could admit that Stiles was proving to be much more resilient than Derek had given him credit for. Or perhaps it was stubbornness. Either way, Stiles just kept swimming, no matter how heavy Derek had to be. It was honestly a little impressive, even if Derek would never say that out loud.

Stiles didn't even complain, but that might have been because it didn't take long before he had no breath left to talk with. Derek wasn't exactly itching for a conversation anyway.

Derek kept trying to move — even just a twitch would have been welcome at that point — but the paralysis was wearing off so much slower than he had the patience for. He kept himself from cursing only because he didn't want to distract Stiles. Derek might not like him, but he knew better than to do anything that might make it more difficult for Stiles right now.

Stiles literally had Derek's life in his hands.

But it was still only a matter of time before Stiles got tired. The moment he declared that he couldn't keep it up, Derek felt the fear rise to the surface. It would be so easy for Stiles to just let Derek sink. He wouldn't even have to watch him die — Derek would do it without a word or twitch at the bottom of the pool. Slowly drowning without being able to do anything to save himself.

"No, no, no! Don't even think about it!" Derek barked the moment he realized what Stiles was about to do. His heart was beating furiously in his chest but, as always, what came out of his mouth was anger and harshness. He couldn't afford to show any kind of weakness, not even now.

Derek had no trouble admitting that he didn't trust Stiles and he wasn't beyond trying to exaggerate his own value in the situation, either. Stiles needed him to survive so that he could fight the lizard. The problem was just that it would be much easier for Stiles if he let Derek go. He'd be able to stay up longer.

If Stiles went for the phone to call Scott, he had no reason to come back for Derek — especially if he actually got a hold of some help. Then he wouldn't need Derek anymore. Derek couldn't let him reach for the phone because he couldn't trust Stiles to pull him up again once he was done.

It didn't matter in the end.

Derek tried to order Stiles not to let him go, but he could see it in Stiles' eyes — see how the stubbornness won out and he decided to give it a try. That look would haunt him for a long time, Derek knew that, and he would often wonder what he did wrong, or if Stiles' choice had anything to do with him at all.

What he did know, however, was how the fear blossomed into panic, but he barely had time to shout Stiles' name before he was already slipping below the surface.

A part of him was definitely furious. Derek didn't want to die. He didn't want to drown. He was angry at Stiles for letting go, but he couldn't exactly blame him, either. Most people would choose themselves over another person's life. It was human nature.

All Derek could do was hold his breath. The pressure of the water hurt his ears and he couldn't smell or hear anything. Everything was muted — silent and bare. He hated it. His chest felt tight and he realized that the panic was only rising.

When he hit the bottom, the impact shook him to his core, even if it was dulled by the water. His lungs hurt but he knew that it wasn't because he was out of breath — not yet. It was fear. Derek was helpless and drowning and the only person he had to rely on had no real reason to come back for him.

Derek had never bothered to figure out how long he could hold his breath, so he had no idea how much time he had left. How much longer until instincts kicked in and he blacked out to spare himself the agony of drowning.

He closed his eyes.

It wasn't acceptance, but what else could he do? Stiles was swimming for the edge — that much he could tell — but Derek couldn't move. He could only wait.

Wait and hope.

He had no idea how much time passed. He could only feel the pressure of the water, pushing him down, cornering him from all sides, just waiting for him to let go.

Derek didn't.

He had very little reason to think that Stiles would pull him up again, but he intended to hold out for as long as possible.

Was it wrong to hope?

Was this how he would die?

It was just a quick brush against his hand at first, then he felt the tug on his shirt. Arms wrapped around him and moments later he broke the surface a second time.

Derek almost choked on his own breaths, trying to gain his bearings as quickly as possible.

"Tell me you got him," he croaked in between gasps. It would be really nice if Scott could come to the rescue right about now.

At Stiles' telling silence, Derek made a sound halfway between a growl and a groan. They were on their own and Derek knew that Stiles couldn't take much more. He almost felt bad for the kid.

Stiles held him closer this time. Derek could feel Stiles' cheek pressed against his head while Stiles' hands grappled for some kind of purchase. Under any other circumstances, Derek would have snarled at all the touching, but he couldn't exactly do that now. Not when Stiles was doing everything within his power to keep Derek alive.

And he didn't even have to.

Derek didn't understand — Stiles should have left him. It would have been so much easier for him, but he hadn't. Stiles had pulled him up again even if he had to be at the brink of exhaustion.

Derek felt quite humbled.

But he wasn't surprised when Stiles declared that he needed something to hold on to. It was obvious that Stiles' strength was fading fast and both of them were barely above the surface by then. Derek kept choking on water and gave no protests when Stiles started towing him towards the edge of the pool. Derek could barely breathe as it was anyway.

He only followed, limp and useless.

He didn't have the heart to feel angry when Stiles must have slipped. Derek couldn't even turn around and see for himself, but, when he sank for the third time, he knew it wasn't voluntary on Stiles' part.

In fact, Derek was pretty certain that Stiles was going down with him.

That made him inexplicably sad.

Stiles had only tried to help. Stiles had gone above and beyond what most people would for a person they barely tolerated, and now they were both drowning because of it. Derek even felt a little guilty, despite it not being his fault, per se.

It was a tragic end for them both.

Or it would have been, if Scott hadn't finally arrived.

Getting pulled out of the pool was a relief, even if Derek still couldn't move properly. He could hear Scott's roar and the lizard's response — as well as the ensuing fight — but there wasn't much he could do to help.

That didn't mean that he didn't try, of course, struggling up into a half-sitting position by leaning against the nearest object that could hold his weight and wasn't Stiles. Derek didn't get very far before it was already over, though.

He didn't feel stupid over not having realized that it was a kanima until he saw its reaction to its own reflection — kanimas had only ever been rumors to him. He certainly hadn't expected one to show up in Beacon Hills all of a sudden. At least he knew what it was now, even if it made little difference in the grand scheme of things.

Derek was still going to kill it.

"Hey, you okay?" Stiles panted next to him. Derek could hear Stiles' fluttering, uneven heartbeats and knew that Stiles had to be shaking after the painful amount of exercise he had just gone through.

Derek still couldn't quite find it within himself to be nice.

That was horrible — Stiles had saved his life — but Derek felt embarrassed. Useless. Weak. He wasn't used to that and, whenever he ran into things he didn't understand, he lashed out. It was a defense mechanism of his, which wasn't exactly a good reason, but it was an explanation.

"I'm fine," Derek gritted out through clenched teeth. He made a weak attempt to stand, only to wobble dangerously.

"Whoa! Easy!" Stiles moved as if to catch him but stopped long before they actually touched.

Derek would have snarled if it wasn't for the fact that Stiles definitely didn't deserve it.

"Check on Erica instead," Derek grumbled sullenly. She had been out for quite some time and he had to admit that now, when he didn't have to focus on the kanima and possibly drowning, he was actually worried. She must have hit the wall much harder than he thought.

Scott, ever the hero, went to Erica while Stiles stayed where he was. Derek was annoyed, even if he suspected that it could have been because Stiles was actually too tired to move. He had the right to be, but that didn't mean that Derek had to enjoy the continued exposure to his stupid questions.

"Is it wearing off? Can you move yet?"

Derek pressed his lips together and sighed heavily. "Keep talking and I'll make sure that I can, if only to punch you in the face."

Stiles huffed, but there was a slight tinge of humor to it.

"Ever the charmer, Derek."

"Ever the annoying pain in the ass," Derek retorted.

"Hey!" Stiles sounded offended. "I just _saved_ your ass! A little gratitude would be nice."

Stiles was right. But Derek was a terrible person — he had always known that — so all he did was roll his eyes and scoff. Stiles deserved better than that, he really did, but Derek couldn't give it. A part of him wanted to because Stiles had been so stupidly brave and considerate despite his lack of obligations, but Derek sucked at being nice. It was as simple as that.

Stiles grumbled but said nothing about it. No more demands for gratitude and no more questions about how Derek was doing. Derek told himself that it was better that way.

Especially once all four of them could finally leave the pool behind.

Explaining about the kanima was met with about as much hostility as Derek had expected — as if he had intentionally been keeping secrets from Scott and Stiles even if he just found out himself. Derek tried not to react to how Stiles was the first to understand that a kanima wasn't normal for Derek, either. Stiles was far too intuitive for his own good.

Derek pushed that and everything else aside. He knew what was responsible for the killings. He knew that he could kill it, even if it could prove to be quite the challenge. The rest was inconsequential. Scott could spout as many fantasies about trust as he wanted — he didn't exactly make any attempts to trust or be trustworthy.

Derek didn't have time for trust.

So, when he turned to leave, he pretended that he couldn't feel Scott and Stiles' lingering gazes. Derek wanted to forget what had happened the past couple of hours.

It wasn't just that he felt suitably humiliated, it was that he was honestly grateful. He was confused by the devotion Stiles had shown him, even if it was probably given only because Stiles didn't want to have Derek's death on his conscience. It was still more than most people offered and definitely more than Derek had ever expected from Stiles.

More than Derek thought that he deserved.

It brought him out of balance. He didn't know what to say. One minute he regretted not saying thank you and the next he felt silly for even considering it.

They had other things to worry about, more important things.

But that didn't remove the niggling doubt or the guilt he felt. He learned to ignore it, though, and, by the time the rest of the events with the kanima unraveled, Derek had almost forgotten about it entirely.

Until he found himself facing Stiles again and caught a hint of that stubbornness he had seen in the pool. Then he was right back there, the smell of chlorine sharp in his nose, Stiles treading water to keep them alive. But, no matter how hard Derek tried, he just couldn't say thank you.

So he remained silent. Perhaps Stiles forgot about it too.

Derek was willing to pretend.

But, every once in a while, when he felt the sharp ache of hopelessness, he would remember that tug on his shirt when Stiles had dragged him to safety the second time. He would remember the hope he had felt flare in his chest and the relief thrumming through him when he could breathe air again.

That never left him.

It took him two years before he could actually say thank you and, when he did, Stiles smiled, twined their fingers together, and replied that he had always known, but it was nice of Derek to finally admit it out loud like a big boy.

And that was all they ever said about it.

Just typically Stiles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to find me on Tumblr, you can do so [HERE](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Library Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Based on[Sanrinachi's](https://sandrinachi.tumblr.com/) art that you can find [HERE](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/78481413899/kimchisan-i-bet-he-loves-going-to-the)**
> 
> **Rating/Warnings:** G / None
> 
> **Notes:** Just a cute little something about Stiles loving books and libraries. I happen to be a librarian, hence my wholehearted support of this headcanon.

 

Stiles had never been ashamed to admit that he loved libraries. He loved to read. He loved to browse through the shelves and lose himself in the great, vast ocean of possibilities that opened up before him as soon as he stepped inside the doors. He felt small in libraries, but in a good way. He'd look at the rows upon rows of shelves, trying to imagine how many books there were — how many unexplored worlds, wronged heroes, and dazzling adventures he'd find if he were to read them all.

Of course, as he got older, he knew he'd never be able to. Still, he gave it his best shot.

By the time he was six, the librarians all knew him by name. By the time he was eight, they greeted him like family, asking him about his day in school and if they could help him with his homework.

When his mother died, he fled to the library, immersing himself in the lives of other people, since it was easier than dealing with his own.

By the time he was in high school, he was pretty certain that everyone knew him as the nerdy kid who practically lived at the library, but he didn't mind. Nor did he mind the glasses he got because he just couldn't stop reading.

Strained his eyes too much, the doctor said.

Doing what he loved, Stiles said.

And Stiles was content with that. He had found a safe haven at the library, the staff kind and familiar, always eager to discuss the latest books or give him tips on what to read next. He loved it. He felt at ease and safe there.

So, perhaps it made sense for him to be a little distracted as he shuffled between the shelves, nose buried in one of the classics — _How to Kill a Mockingbird_ , because it was two years since he had read it last time — and faceplanted straight into a wall. Or so it had seemed, until the wall talked.

Stiles was fairly certain that walls didn't actually do that.

"Watch it."

Stiles looked up, eyes wide and glasses a little askew. He had walked straight into some guy's leather-clad back. And what a guy it was. Dark hair, sharp features, bright, hazel eyes, and a scowl to match the harshness of his voice. Still, the guy was absolutely _gorgeous_.

Stiles felt his cheeks burn, probably looking like a deer caught in the headlights. A very stupid deer.

"Uh…"

Wow. He'd probably do a better first impression if he just turned tail and ran like the startled dork he knew himself to be.

The guy raised an eyebrow — which turned out to be a surprisingly eloquent gesture. Stiles could read entire sentences in that one eyebrow, none of them especially flattering to Stiles' intelligence.

He felt a flash of defiance.

"Sorry, my bad. But you really shouldn't be standing in the middle of the aisle like that. Are you loitering or something?"

"No." The guy sounded vaguely insulted.

"If you say so." Stiles grinned, pushing his glasses back in their place. "I come here all the time and I've never seen you before. I can help you if you're lost."

A jaw clenching. "I'm not."

Wow. That guy sure knew how to sound angry. And talk with his lips pressed into a thin line. Stiles was suitably impressed.

"Alright," Stiles replied with a casual shrug before taking a careful step around the guy. Those were some really broad shoulders but Stiles did his best not to linger on that fact. "You have fun here at the riveting 'Customs of life cycle and Domestic life'-section."

Stiles only got a couple of feet before that gruff, reluctant voice called out.

"Wait."

Stiles turned around, an innocent smile on his lips. He wasn't fooling the guy, though — Stiles saw that clear as day in the exasperated look on that very pretty face. Stiles waited patiently for a continuation.

"I'm trying to find the linguistics section," the guy relented after a couple of seconds, voice sharp and defensive. He almost looked embarrassed at having to admit to not finding it on his own, and that was far more endearing than it should have been. Stiles was wise enough not to tease him about it, though.

"Right this way." Stiles smiled and waved for him to come along.

After a moment of hesitation, the guy did, following half a step behind. Stiles fought and urge to fistpump.

"So you're new in town?"

The guy gave him a suspicious glance, as if he was trying to figure out why on earth Stiles would care.

"You could say that."

"And you like to read?" Stiles couldn't help sounding hopeful.

The guy didn't answer this time and directed his gaze elsewhere, but there was a look in those hazel eyes that Stiles knew well. He had seen it in his own many, many times. This guy definitely liked to read. And they were definitely going to bump into each other again.

Awesome.

Stiles fought a grin.

Going to the library just got a whole lot more interesting.

 


End file.
